


Holiday

by ninetyfive



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: 90s Take That, Airplanes, Airports, Awkward Boners, Fluff, Innocent smut, Kissing, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetyfive/pseuds/ninetyfive
Summary: Take That go on their first-ever trip abroad as a band. Mark, who has never flown on an airplane before, is feeling very nervous about this. Meanwhile, his boyfriend Gary bets that he can make Mark go hard on the plane.
Relationships: Gary Barlow/Mark Owen
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Holiday

Mark has no idea how to pack his bags for a week abroad.

So far, he has packed: three jumpers, two jackets, fourteen pairs of Calvin Klein boxers, nineteen socks (one has gone missing), an oversized toiletry bag, two books, four trousers, three pairs of shoes, two pairs of pyjamas, an alarm clock, sunglasses, a poncho, an umbrella, a scarf and about a billion different T-shirts. All in one suitcase.

If you’ve ever tried closing a suitcase that is way too full, you will know that it will not close. Mark has twice tried to close his suitcase (he even tried sitting on it), and it did not work.

Mark glares at his suitcase from the chair in the small bedroom that he shares with his bandmates. He crosses his arms in a disapproving manner and transforms his expression into something that he hopes looks sort of menacing. Perhaps if he stares at his suitcase long enough, it will automatically close instead of taking up space on the floor like it is now.

Unfortunately, Mark’s not very good at looking menacing. Also, suitcases cannot close by themselves.

Clearly, Mark will have to come up with something else. He starts emptying his suitcase again. He puts all its contents in neat little piles on his bottom bunk bed. He removes one item from each pile. This still leaves him with three trousers, several T-shirts and two pairs of shoes. He gets rid of the umbrella and poncho. They’re going to Europe, after all. From what he’s heard from Jason, Europe tends to be quite warm.

Besides, they’re probably going to spend most of their journey stuck in hotels and radio studios. This is their first-ever trip to Europe as a band, and Nigel has booked as many appearances at European radio stations as he could. Mark doesn’t _need_ an umbrella – he’ll be indoors all of the time.

Two minutes later, Mark still ends up putting his umbrella back into his hand luggage. _You never know_ , Mark thinks.

 _This is not helping_ , Mark adds, when he starts counting the number of items on his bed and finds that there are still as many as ten minutes ago. He needs help.

‘Gaz? Can I have a look at your suitcase?’ Mark asks his boyfriend, who has already finished packing for the week ahead. He’s in the middle of writing a song for Take That’s second album in the living room of the apartment the band sharing. Rob, Howard and Jason have gone to the local corner shop to get snacks for their car ride to the airport. ‘I feel like maybe I’ve packed too much.’

Gary shows Mark his trolley in the hallway. It is tiny.

‘Where’s the rest of it?’ Mark asks.

‘This is it,’ says Gary.

‘But what about your _socks_ , Gaz? And your underwear. And your _books_ ,’ Mark adds, mortified.

‘Everything I could need I’ll just buy locally,’ Gary explains. ‘Besides – I’ve got _you_ , don’t I? You’re all I need.’

Gary places his hands on Mark’s hips then. It ought to be an innocent gesture, but it’s not an innocent gesture for Gary at all, who knows Mark has a sensitive spot right above his hipbone; right where a dolphin is inked into his skin.

Gary slowly rubs the tattoo up and down through the texture of Mark’s shirt, which is soaked through after Mark tried twice to close his massive suitcase in their warm bedroom.

Mark just continues to stare at Gary’s trolley. ‘But your _clothes_ , Gaz.’

‘You do realise you’re going on holiday with _me_ , do you?’ Gary’s voice sounds silky sweet. He’s been fantasising about their work trip to Europe ever since Nigel told them about it two weeks ago. ‘We’re gonna spend every moment together fucking each other at the hotel, so there’s no need taking all me clothes with me. Hence the size of me trolley.’

‘We’re not going on _holiday_ , though, are we?’ Mark points out, blushing rather. ‘This is a work trip. We’ll be doing stuff for work. Also, I’m pretty sure we’ll be sharing a hotel room with our bandmates.’

‘That hasn’t stopped us before.’ Gary gestures at their surroundings: a room with six bunk beds. ‘Besides, we’ll probably still have time to go sightseeing. Sounds like a proper holiday to me.’

‘I can’t go sightseeing with me clothes off, though, can I?’ says Mark, missing Gary’s point completely. Unlike Gary, Mark cannot think about sexy stuff when he is Worrying. ‘What if we go out for dinner with some very important people from European record labels? Will I need formal wear, like – like a suit? Will there be a dress code? I need to be prepared for these things, you know. I don’t understand how you can bring _that_ –’ Here, Mark points at Gary’s trolley, which is easily ten times as small as his own, ‘– when I can’t even get me suitcase to close! Come, have a look.’

Mark takes Gary by the hand to their shared bedroom. Gary thought for certain that they were about to have a Moment then (you know, with Gary’s hands gripping the skin above Mark’s hips), but Mark just wants to talk about suitcases. How boring.

The suitcase itself looks like it has exploded. Clothes cover the floor and bed. There are socks everywhere. A pile of jumpers has toppled from the bed onto the floor. An umbrella is sticking out from the top of Mark’s rucksack.

Gary snorts loudly. ‘Mark, it is _summer_.’

‘And?’ Mark asks, not understanding.

‘You’ve packed a poncho and an umbrella! And what’s with all the jumpers?’ Gary picks up a thick jumper, one of those itchy ones that looks like it was knitted by someone’s grandmother. Everyone in the 90s used to wear them. ‘You look like you’ve packed for bloody Antarctica.’

Mark crosses his arms. ‘You never know, though, _do_ you, Gaz? Maybe it will rain a lot and I’ll be the only person in the band wearing a poncho because _I_ came prepared _._ Also, you _know_ I don’t feel comfortable wearing just a T-shirt. I like layers! Our fans don’t have to see me half-naked _all_ the time, Gaz.’

‘So you’re going to board an airplane with a massive suitcase filled with stuff you’re probably not going to need?’

‘Yes,’ Mark says defiantly, and that is that.

‘Fine. Suit yourself.’ With a resigned sigh (and a roll of his eyes), Gary starts helping Mark pack by rolling up his T-shirts.

‘What are you doing?’ asks Mark, who has no idea how to pack one’s suitcase.

‘I’m helping you pack,’ says Gary, just as he rolls up four T-shirts.

‘But you’re just rolling stuff up.’

‘I know. The first rule of packing: roll up your clothes. Clothes take up less space if you roll everything up,’ Gary explains expertly. ‘Also, make sure you stuff your shoes with your socks. It saves space.’

Mark watches as Gary helps packing his suitcase. He’s clearly good at it. Mark would just fold up his clothes and place them all on top of each other, but Gary’s suitcase-packing method is completely different. He keeps bundling and rolling pieces of clothing together, which then end up looking like big Swiss rolls. Mark thinks it’s fascinating.

After ten minutes of this, Gary has miraculously managed to fit all of Mark’s things into his suitcase, with room to spare.

Gary closes the suitcase easily and pulls it over on its wheels. He looks smug. Gary is clearly the only person in the band who’s ever been on a holiday abroad. ‘Admit it – I did a good job, packing your suitcase. I should start charging money for this!’

‘I agree.’ Mark’s sigh is a mixture of contentment and worry. ‘Except . . . well, I’ve just realised that you’ve accidentally packed me passport on the bottom of my suitcase.’

Gary throws Mark an exasperated look.

***

Once they’ve made it past security, the five members of Take That sit down in the busy departure lounge. They haven’t really scored any big hits yet, so they still have to travel in economy class like normal human beings. Thankfully, no-one seems to recognise them.

Mark quickly finds out that it’s rather difficult to relax at an airport. There are distractions everywhere you look. Here, Mark sees a group of beautiful stewardesses walking past; there, he sees two men rushing for their departure gate with two guitar cases in each hand.

Every minute or so, a message is announced over a tannoy. _Final call for all passengers to Malaga. Mr Martin, flying to Amsterdam, to the airport service desk please._

Mark thinks it’s all very exciting, and very interesting. He’s so fascinated by the hubbub and activity at the departure lounge that he has not blinked for the past ten minutes, it’s all so exciting.

Unlike Mark, who cannot sit still from being too excited, Gary, Rob and Howard have all dozed off inside their chairs. Nigel has gone to get coffee. Meanwhile, Jason has been meditating for the past ten minutes. He sank into a deep meditation quickly, his mind miles away from the airport. To him, there’s an almost mantra-like quality to the sound of rolling suitcases on the marble floor. He finds rhythm and comfort in the buzz of activity all around him. He could easily sit here cross-legged in the departure lounge for ages.

On the contrary, Mark does not want to miss a single second. Everything he sees prompts a question inside his head. Where is the woman who’s sat in front of him going? What about the guy with the massive rucksack who’s been staring at the departures screen for the past five minutes? Is he a backpacker? Or an adventurer? Is he going to a place like India or Africa, or is he like Mark, and has he packed for every eventuality?

Mark wishes he knew the story of every person who is here. He wants to ask the young woman with the pink rucksack where she is going. He wants to ask the stewardesses in the departure lounge what it’s like to have a job in the sky. He thinks it’s all absolutely fascinating.

An announcement crackles over the tannoy, and Mark tilts his head to listen to it. The announcement is in a foreign language. He obviously does not understand the announcement (the only language Mark speaks is English), but it only adds to the mystique of the airport.

Mark glances at Gary, who has just woken up from his slumber. ‘Are airports always such interesting places, Gaz?’

Gary stretches. He cracks his joints. ‘They are if you like waiting. I personally hate airports, me.’ He stretches again.

‘Why? There’s so much to see and do!’

Gary doesn’t agree. He rubs his eyes. ‘Airports stop being interesting after you’ve been on holiday a few times.’

Mark crinkles up his nose. ‘You’re just spoiled because you have a little more money than the rest of us. I think airports are _great_ places.’

‘ _I_ don’t. I just wanna get on me plane and get away as fast as I can.’

‘It’s the “getting on a plane” part that _I’m_ dreading,’ Mark admits. His tummy flips itself upside-down when he hears a plane taking off in the distance. ‘I don’t like the idea of flying at all, Gaz. I’m quite nervous, actually. I don’t even get this nervous when I have to perform in front of a big crowd.’

‘Really? You’re nervous, are you?’ Gary smiles. A smug smile. Unlike the other members of the band, Gary has been on holiday quite a few times already. ‘I think I can do something about that.’

Gary leans over to kiss Mark in the middle of the departures lounge. It’s a soft kiss; not at all demanding, but it still makes Mark’s heart race with the prospect of something else. Something _more_.

They part to exchange a dreamy look. Mark bites his lip. People walk past them from all directions. A woman with three pieces of hand luggage raises her eyebrows at them. They don’t snog in public much. They’re men, after all.

‘Aren’t you scared people will judge us?’ Mark whispers. He knows _he_ is His heart is racing.

‘Never.’ Gary places his hand on Mark’s thigh. He squeezes. Mark flushes.

Mark swallows. He has the wild urge to throw his arms around Gary’s neck and kiss him, but he deliberately waits, tracing the shape of Gary’s mouth with his fingertips. A woman and a man stop to look at them, a shadow of horror flickering on their faces. The woman hides her hand behind her mouth as she whispers something into her husband’s ear. This never used to happen when Mark dated girls.

Mark turns to look at the woman. He ought not to find the attention arousing, but he does. He leans forward to kiss Gary once more, warmth surging through him.

Gary does not hesitate to kiss Mark back passionately. His hands find all the little places of Mark’s body that he dares touching in public: his thigh, his chin, and the spot right below his crotch.

It is over before they know it. The tannoy interrupts with an announcement about a flight to Paris, their destination, and the boys pull apart to listen to it. It’s just an announcement about a different flight to Paris, hosted by a different airline.

Gary breathes a sigh of relief.

Mark touches his lips where Gary kissed him. He becomes hyper-aware of an elderly couple that is watching them still. The woman, a lady with a very big hat on her small head, is tutting and shaking her head.

He knows it sounds awful, he wishes the woman would disappear. He shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such awful looks just because he likes Gary, who is a boy like him. Would that woman still feel the same about him if they knew he’s in an up-and-coming boy band? He wonders.

He tries to focus on Gary instead. He tucks his half-long hair behind his ears. ‘That was quite nice, wasn’t it, Gaz?’ Despite the people looking at him, he means it.

‘If you thought that was nice, wait till we get on the plane,’ Gary says vaguely.

This makes Mark turn a pale sort of colour. For a moment, Mark had genuinely forgotten that he and his mates were about to board a plane. He becomes, again, overly aware of the activity of the departures lounge; the hundreds of people walking past; and the announcements being made of over the tannoy.

The announcements sounded rather mysterious to him just ten minutes ago, but now? Now they’re just reminders of the terrifying thing he’s about to do.

He hears someone saying, _Final call for all passengers to Amsterdam._ His heart skips a beat. In the background, there’s the sound of a plane taking off. _Mr Ure, flying to Vienna, to the airport service desk please._ A group of pilots walk past, laughing. Mark feels his seat rumbling as a plane lands on a nearby runway.

He closes his eyes for a second. He _likes_ airports. He likes seeing stewardesses and pilots and wondering where everyone is going. He likes being with his four best mates. He likes just sitting here and waiting and not having to do anything but stare as the departures screen changes overhead.

But he’s absolutely going to _hate_ flying.

Gary caresses the small of Mark’s back. The elderly couple with the judgmental expressions get up and walk away, still tutting. Gary doesn’t notice. ‘You all right there, Marko?’

Mark shakes his head. ‘I’m not looking forward to flying _at all_ , Gaz. I can deal with airports and waiting and sort of watching the world go by, but _flying?_ ’ He scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. He’s beginning to feel rather envious of Rob and Howard, who are still fast asleep next to him none the wiser. ‘No thanks.’

‘In that case, maybe we need to make the flight a bit more enjoyable for you.’

‘How? We’ll be up in the _sky_ , Gaz. That’s not something you can make enjoyable, ever. It’d be like trying to make signing CDs _fun_. Which it isn’t, obviously. Signing our CDs is very boring and very annoying, but I still do it.’

‘I’ve got a few ideas in mind,’ Gary says mysteriously.

‘Such as?’

‘Simple. We make a bet.’

‘A _bet?_ ’ Mark reiterates, not understanding.

‘Yeah, mate. I’d bet twenty pounds –’ Gary drops what he was going to say. Ten children past wearing identical rucksacks. He waits until all of them have passed. He leans forward. He whispers his words into Mark’s ear, ensuring that Mark can feel every exhale against his skin. ‘I’d bet twenty pounds that I can make you go hard during the flight.’

Mark can feel the warmth of a blush as it crawls up his neck. More people walk past. He glances at Howard and Rob, still sleeping. Jay is still meditating cross-legged in his chair. There’s that constant, _droning_ sound of wheels-on-stone as passengers rush for their departure gates.

Gary whispers another message into his ear, an even more dangerous one. An announcement over the tannoy drowns out most of it, but Mark can feel every word. He can feel the vibration of them making the skin below his ear tingle and pulse.

The idea that Mark could potentially feel his boyfriend’s hands on him on an airplane, the scariest place in the world, fills Mark with both fear and excitement. He can feel his cheeks pulsing with blood as he moves his lips to Gary’s ear for a brave message of his own. Afterwards, he won’t remember how he ever felt brave enough to say it.

‘Count me in.’

***

The boys board the plane. Mark quickly finds out that boarding a plane isn’t at all like getting on a bus or tram, where you can sit wherever you want. Apparently, boarding a plane involves moving in single file and waiting for ages before you can finally find your assigned seats.

For some reason, the members of Take That have been given seats all over the plane. Howard and Nigel share two seats in the front of the plane. Rob and Jason have been assigned two seats in the very back of the plane, where take-off feels scarier.

Thankfully, Gary and Mark can still be together. Upon finding their seats, Mark has some trouble taking off his carry-on luggage and stowing it underneath the seat in front of him, causing a massive queue to form behind him.

Flustered, he sits on seat 7E. Seat 7F, a window seat, has already been claimed by an elderly man who is sleeping. Mark mouths an apology to the queue of people who had to wait behind him, but they’re too busy trying to find their own seats to notice.

Gary sinks into the seat next to Mark. Compared to Mark, who looks red in the face – his hair very messy; his brow covered in sweat; his clothes wrinkled in places – Gary looks like he’s just descended from heaven. His hair still looks perfect. Apart from two pink spots on his cheeks, Gary does not look flustered at all. He looks like he could board a plane in his sleep.

Casually, Gary stows his luggage underneath the seat in front of him and reclines his seat. He closes his eyes for a second.

‘You look like you’re enjoying yourself,’ Mark whispers. He glances at the elderly man on his left, who is still sleeping. He sounds a little envious.

‘Are you not comfortable, Mark?’

Mark shakes his head. He’s never felt less comfortable in his life. Even though he’s short, he doesn’t have an awful lot of space to move his legs in front of him. His seat squeaks with each move he makes. The stranger next to him is snoring softly. Passengers are still queued up in the aisle, waiting to find their seats.

Mark scrunches up his nose when he smells a whiff of garlic. A passenger must have taken fast food on board of the plane. He didn’t even know you were allowed to take food with you on a plane. ‘I still don’t understand why you like flying, Gaz.’

‘I still don’t understand why _you_ don’t.’

Mark’s about to explain as much, but then he stops himself. As much as he genuinely doesn’t feel at ease at being here, stuck in this too-small space that’s about to take off into the sky, he does not want to complain. After all, this is his first-ever trip abroad. Growing up in Oldham, he couldn’t even dream of ever going to London. Being a member of Take That has opened up his world in ways he never thought possible. 

‘I mean, I _am_ grateful we’re here, obviously,’ Mark says. When he notices that the man next to him is still sleeping, he leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘I’ve never been on holiday before, you know. I mean, apart from when we shot that music video a couple of months ago, but that doesn’t count, does it? It was just work. The idea that I’m about to head to a completely different country is actually quite magical to me. I’m happy. Very happy. But I’m also sort of nervous. What if I need to go to the toilet? Will I be able to sleep? Will I not be able to see Jay and Howard and Rob for the rest of the flight? What if I recline my seat and the person behind me gets upset? And what am I supposed to do with _this?_ ’

Mark holds up two ends of a seatbelt. He looks mortified.

‘That’s a seatbelt,’ Gary points out drily.

‘I can see that, Gaz, but how do I fasten it?’

Gary cocks his right eyebrow. He leans forward. Whispers: ‘Do you need _me_ to do it for you?’

Mark nods. Gary can see his boyfriend blushing. He reaches out. He grabs not the red seatbelt attached to the seat underneath Mark’s arse, but the inside of Mark’s thigh. He squeezes.

Mark can feel the blush on his face deepen. He looks down to see Gary’s hand squeezing his thigh, then moving to the seatbelt he doesn’t know what to do with. Gary fastens it around his tummy easily. He tightens the belt by pulling at one end of the red belt. He pulls it tighter.

‘Is this all right for you?’ Gary asks, even though he knows the answer already. He gives Mark a light kiss on the mouth, unable to resist.

Mark shakes his head. ‘It’s – it’s a bit tight,’ he whispers, almost ashamed to admit it because God knows he and Gary have used the word “tight” under completely different circumstances in very different places when their bandmates were asleep in the same bedroom.

Gary knows this too, of course. He loves the look on Mark’s face; a mix of both embarrassment and curiosity. Mark’s been squeezed _there_ before, but never _here,_ on board of a plane, where everything is new and only Gary Barlow’s hands are familiar.

Gary leans forward. Mark flushes. There’s so much noise inside the cabin – Rob laughing several seats away, stewardesses helping clueless passengers find their seats, the man on seat 7F snoring loudly – that the words Gary whispers next are barely audible, even as his lips move against his boyfriend’s ear. ‘I thought you liked it tight, Mr Owen.’ And he squeezes Mark’s crotch right as a stewardess walks past.

Mark’s hot response comes in the shape of a kiss, not words. He finds himself kissing Gary with as much passion as if they were alone. He parts his lips to allow Gary’s tongue to find his own. He spreads his legs; bucks up his hips.

At the same time, he can feel his seatbelt being tightened. It shouldn’t turn him on, but the human body works in strange ways when you’re nervous, yearning for the things that are familiar when you’re in a place that is new.

An announcement over the on-board tannoy forces them to stop. A stewardess walks past. Mark’s face has gone bright red. The final passenger has just boarded the plane.

Gary looks down. His mouth breaks out into a smug grin.

‘Guess I’ve just won that bet, Marko.’


End file.
